Chapter warning!
The second half of this chapter is a little dark. Dragon Age, to me personally, feels like a very dark series. For this reason, I've always imagined the Fade to be a terrifying place that gloms onto your worst fears and insecurities, making you relive them over and over.
For sensitive readers, I did want to warn that there is a very brief mention of rape as part of a character's memories in the Fade. I tried to keep this as light as possible without going into any details, but if you are triggered by this, you may want to skip the section highlighted in "******".
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Chapter 4
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Arian ran through the halls, heedless of her path or those she came across. Her breaths came in short staccatos, chest heaving not from the exertion of the run but from the geyser of emotions flooding her mind and body.
It was only when she was half way to her destination that she realized with a cold clammy panic - she wasn't wearing her amulet! Her eyes sought shelter, cover - anything! - until, with a painful lurch of her heart, she threw herself into a nearby servant's closet. Panting to catch her breath, she took out the trinket with shaking hands and looped it over her neck. The familiar magic enveloped her, and she slid to the ground in relief.
She couldn't rationalize what just happened. Her trembling hand came up to touch her lips. She was furious with herself for losing control enough to forget about her disguise. But - Mythal have mercy - how was she expected to remember anything after the events in her chambers?
It wasn't her fault, was it? She hadn't encouraged Alistair, had she? All she'd wanted was to let him go, to show him that he didn't need to feel guilty about his decision to avoid entanglements anymore. She'd been prepared for the consequences of his rejection, had trained and toughened her heart to do this for weeks. And then...
Well, then Alistair had kissed her.
It wasn't the chaste kind of kiss she'd imagined over and over again, either. Her handsome, adorable young Warden whom had never licked a lamp post in winter was supposed to brush his lips against hers with a blush. He was supposed to kiss her cheek or her nose. If anything, Arian had always thought she would be the one showing him more advanced ways of doing things.
Instead, he'd overwhelmed her like a hurricane swallowing an aravel, wheels and all. And worse, she had let herself be swept away. Alistair was silly, funny, and hardly ever serious about anything. But, he was the most disciplined man she knew. He was a gentleman, always considerate of her, always gentle and sweet.
So who in Mythal's name was the man that had just ravished her mouth? Whose lips had instantly melted her resolve? Whose hands and arms had held her and caressed her? Creators, she'd wanted him to continue. For a moment when Zevran stopped them, she'd even been frustrated.
She'd lost her reason, almost like she did when Zevran touched her.
No - she thought with a groan, slapping her hands over her cheeks and rubbing them over her eyes. No one has ever made me feel like how Zevran does...
And her beautiful elven assassin - he'd seen her make a complete fool of herself. What must he think of her now? Already, sheworried enough that she'd given into his charms too easily. She'd resisted him for as long as she could in the weeks after he joined their party, but from the moment that he first began his gentle flirtations, she suspected that falling into his embrace was inevitable.
Did he think her a harlot now, no different than the countless men and women he'd bedded? Worse yet - they had never discussed monogamy, but had she broken some unspoken rule between them? She'd never intended to take another partner during their dalliance and was fairly certain she might have been hurt if he'd wanted to. Had she wounded him instead? She hadn't initiated the kiss with Alistair, but she sure as the Stars didn't fight him off with sufficient force to mark her innocent in the affair.
Creators help me...
She wasn't sure she had the courage to ever look him in the face again. Him or Alistair. Shame flooded her veins. She buried her face in her hands, thinking it might be best if she never showed her real face to anyone ever again.
The door to the closet creaked open, letting a beam of sunlight into the darkness through the narrow opening. Arian peeked through her fingers and immediately sighed in relief. Strezark padded inside, his huge black body melding with the murk in the tiny room. Only his glowing green eyes remained, fixated on her. Arian sucked in a breath when images suddenly flooded her mind from him.
Arl Earmon deathly pale on his bed.
Isolde crying in Teagan's arms.
A deep rumbling voice echoed in her mind - You must go, Elfling. There will be time later to repent mistakes of the heart.
With a nod, Arian held out her arms. Strezark nuzzled against her cheek, resting his huge head on her crown. She hugged him close, burrowing into his warmth. The only being that knew her better than she knew herself.
"What do I do, Strezark? This is more than a little mistake. I never meant for this to happen."
Human emotion is not Ours to know. But, it is clear they both desire you and will not share your attentions.
Arian sighed, petting the wolf's fur. "I never imagined anyone would even want someone like me."
You do not see yourself clearly, perhaps because you have not lived as yourself for many years.
"I never thought I would experience this kind of heartache. To have not only one person like me, but two? Well...Zevran doesn't seriously like me...I think."
If it is a casual dalliance, then why not end it?
She shook her head vehemently but couldn't summon the right words to explain why that didn't sound like an option.
Be ready, Elfling, for soon you will need to choose. The boy whom you've loved since he pulled you from your nightmare, or the man whose passion has blossomed you into a woman...
"Zevran is more than that."
Her desire for him was overwhelming, but it wasn't just his body she adored. It was so much more - the gentle heart beneath the surface, his smile, his glittering amber eyes, the stories of his adventures, and his strength. The strength and unbreakable will that had taken him through a life of hardship and suffering. He was not afraid to be exactly who he was, a trait she envied deeply.
Focus on the present, Elfing. For now, focus on those who need the Warden. After the child is safe, you may tend to your emotions.
"I'm sorry. You're right." She gave him another pet. "I meant to ask. Will you guide me through the Fade?"
The wolf growled gently. If it is your decision to go, We will guide you.
"I can't go back to my room now..."
Go to the Qunari. He will not pass judgment or ask questions, and he will protect his Kadan.
Arian gave her companion a wan smile. "You always liked Sten best."
Strezark grunted. He protects and honors. He does not cloud your mind with longing or touch you in ways that make you lose all sense.
"Oh, stop it," she chided, hiding her face in his fur when she felt her cheeks grow hot. "Also, he isn't the only one of my friends that is like that. It's just Zevran...and Alistair...that do those things."
But the others like to gossip. The Sten will not.
Arian took a deep breath. Several, in fact. She got to her feet, dusted herself off, and clenched her hands into fists. She chanted a quick prayer to Mythal in elven, asking her for strength to put aside the turmoil in her heart so that she might save Connor's life. Reverently, she traced the vallaslin on her forehead.
"Alright, Strezark. Let's go."
With that, she set out in the direction of Sten's chambers. It wasn't far. She'd covered a good distance in her flight from her room. She knocked on his door, and he opened it almost immediately, as though he'd been standing just on the other side.
"Hello, Sten," she greeted him.
Sten looked down at her with his stony face, neither pleased or displeased to see her. He was bent forward slightly, his massive frame too large for the human-sized doorway.
"I need your help."
He motioned for her to come inside and shut the door behind him. She noticed that he twisted the door handle with just two fingers, likely to avoid tearing it out of the wood with his brute strength.
"What is it, Kadan?"
She sat on the edge of his bed, Strezark settling at her feet. For a moment, she hesitated, knowing how Sten felt about magic. She fidgeted with her fingers in her lap.
"I wouldn't ask you if I did not think you were the most suited..."
He blinked at her. She braced herself.
"I want to go into the Fade myself. To save Connor, Arl Eamon's son."
He kept staring.
"Tonight. With Strezark. I need you to protect my body while I'm gone. Some...um..." she rolled her top lip between her teeth nervously, "some people might try to come in and interrupt. Nobody must disturb me and Strezark. If they try to wake me forcefully...well, it could end badly."
Sten remained silent, walking over to a nearby desk where his colossal sword rested. He unsheathed the blade, a heavy ringing filling the room. He took a position in front of the door, resting the pointed end of his blade in the floor and setting his feet wide apart. With a single nod, he turned away from her.
"Aren't you...going to ask me anything?"
He did not turn around. "Haven't we discussed the futility of asking pointless questions? You are intent on this, are you not? Me asking you anything will only delay you."
Arian smiled and walked over to him, putting a gentle hand on his forearm. "Thank you, Sten."
He nodded.
"I'm...not sure how long I may be gone."
"For as long as you are, I will guard you."
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Zevran stood silently in the corner of Sten's chambers, his arms folded over his chest. He propped one foot up on the windowsill as he listened to the chatter of Arian's companions outside the door. Maker have mercy. Were they arguing again?
"Sten, please let us see her," Leliana petitioned in her lovely Orlesian accent. "This isn't normal. She should have returned by now. Please, Morrigan, say something."
"'Tis true," the witch said calmly. "The longer she is gone, the more danger she will face. Perhaps not in the Fade, but for her physical body to be empty for so long..."
"The Warden's instructions were clear," Sten replied. "No one is to come into this room while she is gone."
Zevran pushed off the wall, silently padding over to Arian's bedside. Rules of barriers and doors did not apply to him. The room had two windows, and where there was a window, there was a way inside. Would Sten try to skewer him with his blade if he knew that Zevran had snuck in here? He smirked at the thought. The Qunari was far too diligent in following orders, though Zevran supposed that was not a bad thing where their Warden was concerned.
With a frown, he knelt at the head of Arian's bed. He hated the way she looked, so still and pale. For the hundredth time, he smoothed his hand over her neck to feel her heart flutter against his fingers. Beside her, Strezark was still, his eyes closed for the first time since Zevran had encountered him. He prayed to the Maker that the wolf would guide his Warden home safely.
Arian had slept for a full night and nearly a full day without showing any signs of stirring. Once her companions had discovered her whereabouts, they stayed near Sten's room, perhaps hoping to lend their support to their leader in any way they could. Zevran hadn't bothered to join the merry band outside; he'd let himself in through the window hours prior.
The past few hours had been trying for those outside. The Qunari stood at the door like a massive golem, unmoving and unflinching. No matter how much Alistair tried to convince him to step aside, to let him see Arian, the warrior wouldn't budge. They all hoped to keep the situation a secret, but when the sun began to set and the Warden still hadn't awakened, they began to lose hope. Soon, Irving would come knocking, and he would want an explanation as to how someone without magic had entered the Fade without some kind of sinister interference.
At some point, Leliana had dragged Alistair away to the training courtyard. His pacing wore on them all. She'd come back alone, explaining that Ban Teagan had started asking questions about Arian's whereabouts. Zevran hoped that the young Templar was a good liar. None of them had any idea how they were going to hide this situation for much longer.
The hours passed slowly - painfully - and it was in this span of time spent worrying for Arian that Zevran came to several conclusions. The first was that, at some point, the Warden had most definitely become his Warden in his mind. Not just occasionally, and not just 'in the moment' but for the foreseeable future. This led to the realization that he harbored many unresolved feelings about seeing her kissing the young Templar, the majority of them quite murderous.
He stayed in that happy place for a time, imaging various scenarios in which he carved into Alistair's mind and body just how not his the Warden was. But, soon, he relinquished such fancies, for he came to another conclusion. He could never harm anything or anyone that Arian cared for. He remembered the way she'd looked at the spring, with tears in her eyes, and knew that he did not want to see her in so much pain.
Ever.
All of these epiphanies left him feeling frustrated, even concerned. Everything inside him, all of the Crows' teachings, screamed that this line of thinking was wrong. He cared too much, and it could very well get him killed.
What did he actually know about Arian? Other than broad details about her past and the need that drove her quest, he knew precious little about her as a person. She was beautiful, passionate, and kind. She was stubborn to a fault, proud, and well educated. In Antiva, she would have made some arrogant prince a fine wife, indeed. Though, in Antiva where women were treated more as delicate dolls, she would have been shelved and paraded as a decoration rather than her own person.
A commotion outside the door cut into his thoughts. He turned towards the doorway. Raised voices, some shouting. What now?
"Let me see her, Sten," Alistair's voice practically bellowed. Zevran rolled his eyes.
"Alistair!" Leliana shouted, her voice strained. "Alistair, calm down!"
"I will not. Connor is safe. He's returned. So why is she still asleep?"
The others all exclaimed in surprise when they heard this. Alistair explained how the child had come to his senses. The Mages could sense no demon in him any longer. He'd spoken with Irving with Wynne at his side, made up a lie about the Warden being assaulted by a demon and entering the Fade through its will.
Zevran glanced at Arian's face. Nothing had changed about her.
"Let me in there, damn it," Alistair growled.
"And how could you help her?" Morrigan asked, her voice practically oozing with derision. "If you try to force her awake, you could do irreparable damage."
A pause. Then - "What if she's lost?" Alistair asked, his voice so low that Zevran struggled to hear him speak. "What if she's lost in a nightmare? She saved all of us at the Tower. Who will save her if not us, her friends?"
Zevran looked at Strezark, praying once more to the Maker. Arian couldn't be lost. She had a guide, didn't she?
Where are you? - he asked the wolf in his mind. Why aren't you helping her?
Our voice cannot reach her...
Zevran gasped, scrambling backwards until his back hit the wall. He looked around wildly, instinctively drawing the dagger at his hip.
The bone-deep rumbling voice came again - She is in the clutches of Sorrow.
Images flooded his mind in a dizzying frenzied kaleidoscope of colors. Most were impossible to make out, but he saw a dark room with blood covering the floor and walls. He saw a dumbwaiter with a young girl hiding inside, her hands and feet bound together. He hardly recognized the terrified little face with hollow dead eyes, a bruised cheek, and hair sawed off and sliced at uneven lengths on either side of her head.
"Arian," he gasped.
She will find her way, mortal. She always does.
Was that...Strezark speaking? But, how? How was that possible? Zevran looked warily at the huge black wolf, his nose wrinkling. Was it a demon? He'd suspected it wasn't an animal, but...
The commotion outside settled down. Arian's companions were still speaking, but Zevran tuned them out. He focused on the image he'd seen. The girl in the closet with the dead golden eyes and tearstained face.
Was Arian trapped in that place now? Alone?
He lowered his weapon and stared at the sleeping wolf. Grinding his teeth, he tried to...think at it...like he had before.
Beast, you are there with her, yes?
We are, but she cannot hear Us calling.
Zevran was surprised at how quickly he made his decision. He might not know her every thought or motive, but he was certain she would have done whatever was needed to save him were their roles reversed. His Warden wouldn't have hesitated, and he could do no less seeing as he owed her his life.
Can you send me there?
A mortal should not wander the Fade, especially one without magic to protect him.
If I cared to ask whether I should do something before I did it, my life would have taken a different turn by now, comprendere?
She would not wish it. She would not want you to see.
I really don't care, amico . Can you send me or not?
If you would go to her, would risk your life, then you have but to touch Our body to join her in the nightmare.
Gritting his teeth, Zevran reached for the wolf's great shaggy head. He placed his palm on top of its snout.
At first, nothing happened. Then suddenly, much like with the sloth demon at the Tower, he felt an overwhelming urge to sleep. He glanced at Arian and scooted closer to her, taking her petite hand in his own. Before he could do anything else, his eyes drifted shut and darkness took him.
He floated there for an unknown span of time, not knowing where was up or where was down. He tried moving, but his body was numb and paralyzed. Then, he blinked, and suddenly he stood in the middle of a dark room, the same one from the image Strezark had showed him.
The chamber clearly belonged to a noble house. Fancily painted silk and wool tapestries covered the walls. The area was spacious, something used to host private salons and small social gatherings. A large painting hung over a grand fireplace, now dead and cold. The oils depicted with loving detail a family complete with mother, father, and a beautiful red-haired and green-eyed young girl with a gentle constellation of freckles on her face.
The room must have been beautiful once. But now, the walls and floor were covered in blood and scorch marks. Brute hands had chucked glass ornaments and crystalline dishes at the walls, spilling wine and food all over the hand-painted wallpaper. Ornately carved tables and chairs had been smashed to pieces, the debris scattered all over the floor.
Zevran was used to seeing blood. The sight did not shock him. He'd also seen plenty such scenes in Antiva, where the royal family enjoyed ransacking each other's residences to sabotage their lives and campaigns. If a prince had the money, the guts, and the resources, nothing could stop him from sending mercenaries and Crows to his brother's home to slay the entire household. Messing up the wallpaper and burning down the place were just an extra touch.
He focused on his memory of the dumbwaiter, that small space where Arian was trapped. Closing his eyes, he narrowed his senses on the sounds around him. The rooms were silent as death, but he could just barely make out a kind of whimpering. He followed it to a corner bedroom, stepping over rubble and a few burned corpses along the way. The stench of rotting food - and rotting bodies - did not shake him. He'd smelled worse in Antivan brothels.
He pushed open the door while bracing it around the hinges, wary of it creaking and giving him away. With the grace of a cat on the prowl, he squeezed through the doorway and entered the room.
There in the center, just beyond a filthy stained mattress, lay the body of Elissa Cousland.
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She was naked and covered in blood, her swollen wrists and ankles tied to the ground with stakes. Zevran had no doubt what attentions had been visited upon her. He kept moving closer, and with each step he knew - this hadn't been the work of random drunk soldiers having some fun. This was personal. Men had been paid to do this, to violate this young innocent child in the most gruesome ways imaginable.
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Sadly, this sight did not shake him either. The Crows had done this and much more for coin to their marks. Though he, himself, had always found the thought distasteful, not very many in his order shared the sentiment.
He stopped dead still when the girl's chest shuddered in a small wheezing breath. By some miracle - or curse - she still clung to life.
"Ari..." she whispered. "Ari...please...help me..."
The whimpering again. From his left. He turned and saw the dumbwaiter, shut tight and sealed with heavy rope.
"Ari...help me..."
It was so loud for a whisper, almost like the sound vibrated through his very bones. Almost deafening.
It is her horror - Strezark's voice rumbled. It is as she remembers it.
The ropes on the dumbwaiter snapped open. From within, Arian tumbled out, a piece of broken glass gleaming in her hand. She tripped over her dress as she ran, her bare feet slapping the ground as she rushed to Elissa's side. She ran right past Zevran as though she did not see him.
Falling to her knees, she began to saw at the ropes binding Elissa to the ground. Her hair, normally long and silky, had been hacked away with a dull knife until it hung like straw, haphazardly sticking out in all directions. The entire right side of her face was red and purple, as though someone had smashed her head against something. Her dress was filthy and torn, but she seemed to be uninjured.
"Ari...thank the Maker...Ari..."
Arian's breaths were short and shallow, interspersed with terrified sobs. She hacked and sawed at the ropes with that tiny piece of glass until her fingers bled. When she freed her friend, she pulled her up and held her close.
"Oh!" she wailed. "Oh, what have they done...Lissa...my sister, what have they done to you?"
"You...have to...run..."
"No! No, I won't leave you!"
"They said..." the girl coughed, blood running down her chin. "They were saving you...for Howe...those whoresons..."
"Shh...don't talk, Lissa...I'll help you...I'll get help..."
Elissa's hand snapped up, her torn fingernails digging into Aria's arm. "Run, Ari...run...and take your vengeance." Her eyes lit up with black fire and hatred. "For my...for my family...for your family...take my form...go to Howe...make him regret he was ever born...I want my face to be the last thing he sees..."
"No, you'll come with me...come with me, please..."
"P-Promise me, Ari," she choked on a gurgle, "...swear to me..."
Arian cried out when Elissa's fingers tore at her skin, drawing blood. "I do...I promise..."
"Promise me...swear on your life...swear on your Mythal...s-swear..."
And with those final damning words, the girl breathed her last. Arian cried and cried, but no matter how much she begged, Elissa did not stir.
Zevran looked at her, at that small back, at those frail shoulders - even when his chest constricted as though someone was sawing through his ribs, he looked on. This girl. His kind, gentle, Warden who prayed over the bodies of Darkspawn after slaying them, who used her sweet magic to preserve a dying flower, who walked through the slums and gave children silver and food so they might last another day - this girl bore such a burden on her soul?
He looked upon her, and in that moment he thought he felt her sorrow as though it was his own. As though his own sister had perished. As though his own family had been slaughtered. A name came with the feeling: sympathy. Something he could never have imagined he was capable of. A forbidden thing, something he was not allowed to touch.
And also in that moment, he despised Elissa Cousland with his entire blackened heart, for her actions had been worse than the pain her enemies had inflicted on her body. She hadn't raped her elven sister, but she had violated her life - violated everything she was - by forcing her into that oath. She'd damned her to live as a ghost, as a dead soul seeking vengeance. She planted a seed of cruelty to fester.
Revenge was well and good when one could relish it themselves. But, where was the point in dooming another to the search for it? Would gouging out Howe's eyes and ripping his flesh asunder help Arian forget this moment? Would it undo her loss?
Zevran walked to his Warden and knelt behind her. Slowly, afraid to startle her, he smoothed both of his hands on her shoulders. He called her name, but she did not turn. She truly was lost. He shook her gently, and when that did nothing, he pulled her towards him. Elissa's body vanished into a puff of black smoke. Stroking Arian's hair, he settled her between his legs, gingerly pressing the uninjured side of her face against his chest.
"Mi amore," he whispered. "You must wake now, yes?"
She shifted against him. "Zevran?"
"It is I," he said softly.
"You aren't real."
"I assure you, I am," he smiled. "Your handsome assassin has come for you."
"We're...we're in the Fade..."
He sighed in relief when her little hands clutched at his tunic.
"Indeed we are."
"How...how did you find me?"
"Venire. We can discuss it later. We must wake now." He stroked her back with the tips of his fingernails just as she always liked. "Forget all of it, mi amore. Forget this darkness."
"Forget?"
He nodded, moving stray tufts of hair away from her face. "Tell me. Do you remember the spring deep in the woods?"
Her eyes went foggy. "The spring. In the forest. I think so..."
"Do you remember how I kissed you there? You were bathing in the moonlight."
"Yes, you found me there, and you..." Her face flushed. Zevran couldn't help smiling when she hid her face against his chest. He kept stroking her back, felt her relaxing.
"Si, bene. And the library at Castle Redcliffe? Do you remember that?"
"With the Arlessa..."
"That's right. You were looking for some special books, yes?"
"Books about the Fade," she filled in for him. "So I could be ready..."
"And the child, the boy. Do you remember him?"
"Connor..." she gasped. Then louder - "Connor!"
She sat up straight, and suddenly the small petrified child was gone. His brave strong Warden returned, her brow furrowing. "I helped him. I slew the demon. We fought, and then..." She looked about. Her face paled.
"What is it?"
"You came for me, Zevran. To the Fade." She cupped his face between her hands. "Are you mad? How could you do something so reckless?"
He threw back his head and laughed. "You, my dear, cannot lecture me on this point I think."
"I'll tan Strezark's hide for this. We have to get out of here."
Zevran chuckled. "As you wish. Lead the way, my lady."